


The Puzzle of Harry Parker

by TheRogueHuntress



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Boys In Love, Goblet of Fire AU, Happy Ending, Horcruxes, Identity Porn, M/M, POV Tom Riddle, Possessive Tom Riddle, Romance, Time Travel, Time Travelling Harry, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9696758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRogueHuntress/pseuds/TheRogueHuntress
Summary: The new transfer student Harry Parker's sorting utterly bewilders Tom. He's a puzzle, and Tom is determined to get to the bottom of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Peloux for being an awesome beta!

There’s what seems to be a transfer student waiting with the first years. He’s standing proud and tall, and looking rather… bored. Tom frowns. What kind of student is bored on their first ever visit to Hogwarts? As far as Tom can tell the boredom isn’t even faked. He doesn’t know a Slytherin that could feign that level of nonchalance. Further down the table Mulciber’s placing bets on which house he’ll be.

“I would like to briefly introduce Harry Parker, who will be starting his fifth year after his sorting. He was previously home schooled but unforeseen circumstances have led to his enrolment. I hope you will welcome him into the fold,” Dippet says cheerfully. So he’s joining their year. Everyone stares at Parker, and he stares blandly back, the look of one who’d been scrutinised many times before. His hair is dark as night, and his eyes so very, very bright.

“Three galleons say he’ll be a hat stall,” Tom interjects just before Parker sits. As the hat settles on Parker’s head and starts talking, amusement flashes across his face before it’s replaced with annoyance. He then smooths his expression and tilts his head, evidently engaged in conversation. The seconds tick by and eventually Mulciber swears, passing the money back to Tom. Tom smirks as he collects his winnings. Parker’s gaze had been wary before it had settled into bored, which suggested Slytherin, but the surname suggests at most half-blood, so a contradiction there, not that Tom can talk. Parker shifts, then rolls his eyes.

“Hufflepuff!” the hat announces, and just like that Tom’s attention is lost. Almost. There’s a strange smug expression on Parker’s face that he’s never seen on any Hufflepuffs’, and it looks surprisingly out of place.

Tom dismisses it, at first.

* * *

 

Parker is the quickest draw Tom’s ever seen. He twitches as Malfoy hisses a tripping jinx aimed at his back, spinning out the way and Malfoy’s wand is out his hand and into Parker’s with a murmured “Expelliarmus,” before Malfoy had even realised he’d missed.

“Tut, tut, Malfoy, cursing in the corridors, how uncouth,” Parker taunts with a smirk. Malfoy flushes and none of Tom’s entourage can quite believe Parker’s cheek. Tom can. There’s something about Parker that he can’t quite put his finger on, but he’s different, different from any student Hogwarts has had before. Parker chucks Malfoy’s wand on the floor and smirks. Mulciber, Black and Nott have all got their wands pointed at him when a cough that Tom would have recognised anywhere interrupts them. Parker’s smirk widens into a grin before his face becomes the picture of innocence.

“What is going on here?” Dumbledore demands. Slytherin loses points, and Parker’s escorted to the library. Malfoy has to kneel to pick up his wand, and they’re left fuming. Apart from Tom. He’s impressed, and entirely suspicious. Parker’s a Slytherin if he’s ever seen one. So what the hell is he doing in Hufflepuff?

* * *

 

Parker makes the Quidditch team, and he’s never seen a Gryffindor fly more recklessly than he. Parker shoots toward the ground, the Slytherin seeker hot on his heels, at an angle such that Tom calculates the only thing keeping him on the broom is air resistance. He’s going to crash, Tom doesn’t see how he can escape it. Then, with a hoot Parker flips himself ninety degrees, impossibly parallel to the ground, clinging under his broom, then he’s going up, up into the sky at what was an almost one hundred and eighty degree turn. Carrow ploughs face first into the dirt as the Hufflepuffs begin hollering, realising that for once they’ve got a chance to win the Quidditch Cup.

“He feinted! Did you see that! What a move! Parker leads the opposing seeker on a wild goose chase and to his downfall. Ref is calling for injury time, looks like Nigellus Carrow’s not quite up to scratch. Parker is spending the extra time making a loop of the field, searching for the snitch.” Tom doesn’t gape, because gaping is beneath him, but that’s the only reason. What kind of bloody fool commits to such a manoeuvre when not even in pursuit of the snitch? It’s so damn Gryffindor it takes him thirty seconds to figure out just how damn sneaky it also is. Carrow’s replaced by a Flint, who’s looking utterly terrified. Five minutes later Parker caught the snitch so discreetly he had to fly in front of the commentator’s box to be noticed. Hufflepuff smashes Slytherin and the Slytherin common room is in a subdued dream like state as the House realises exactly what happened. “Lost to Hufflepuff,” Winky Crockett says, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and then she faints.

* * *

 

Tom finds Parker in the library next because of course the Hufflepuff-that-wasn’t would have Ravenclaw attributes too. He sits diagonally across from the boy and he sneaks glances at him whilst pretending to do his Arithmancy. Parker’s a conundrum and Tom loves puzzles.

Parker doesn’t look up once. Not once does he look at Tom. Not once! Several girls do from various spots around the room, then several boys, in envy, and even a few in lust. Parker’s scribbling away at some Potions textbook, entirely focused.

“Need some help?” Tom eventually offers. Parker doesn’t even twitch.

“No thanks,” he says simply, not ever bothering to glance in Tom’s direction. So he’d known that Tom had been there the entire time.

“I’m Tom Riddle, by the way,” Parker does glance up then, gazing at him with those emerald eyes.

“I’m well aware,” he says, a tinge of amusement in his voice, then goes back to his work.  A surge of anger rises up within Tom. How dare he be ignored! But Tom wrestles it back down, calms the fury in his chest.

Tom looks down at his essay, barely even started. He tries to concentrate, but can’t get over how very green Parker’s eyes are. They’re so bright he wonders if they can see in the dark. An absurd thought, but it exists nonetheless.

Merrythought decides to pair the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins together, and somehow Tom ends up facing Parker. Parker chuckles to himself when he sees who his partner is, then frowns, glancing at Tom’s wand. He glances at his own, and Tom desperately wants to know what’s going on in his head, but doesn’t bother trying to risk Legilimency. Parker’s the sort to have practised Occlumency.

One of them is to cast a Stupefy, the other a Protego, then swap.

“I’ll shield first,” he offers generously. Parker nods then grins.

“Stupefy!” he cries, flicking his wand, and the last thing Tom sees is a flash of red light.

Tom blinks his eyes open to Parker’s amused expression.

“I wasn’t ready,” he says, and instantly regrets it as Parker’s smile widens.

“Of course. I suppose anyone you have to face in the outside world will accept that as an excuse. Good job it was only a stunner.”

“Quite right Mr Parker! Are you okay, Mr Riddle?” Tom sits up, angry and humiliated, and even angrier because they’re correct. In a fight to the death he’d be dead.

“I’m fine.” He stands. “Again.” This time he manages to shield, and after that the exercise is quite dull. His shield work is excellent, and Parker already demonstrated he can stun.

“Swap?” Parkers says, then “Protego!” as Tom flicks the silent spell at him. Parker’s shield holds, unfortunately, and it’s back to mind numbing boredom. Then Parker grins and Tom has to shield himself from a jelly legs jinx, and suddenly their boring exercise has devolved into a duel. Tom’s got the greater spell repertoire, not that he dares use anything Dark, but Parker’s inventive and quick. He sends lightning fast spells with unfailing accuracy, flitting away from Tom’s and using his class mates as shields. He summons random pieces of furniture that Tom has to banish as distractions and Tom almost loses his wand twice to Parker’s Expelliarmus which is quite unnervingly strong. They agree to a draw as the duel is called to halt by an irate Merrythought who then sets them to fixing their hexed class mates to rights. Tom can’t help but notice most of the jinxed students are Slytherins, although he’s not sure how Parker managed it, but he’s impressed nonetheless. Malfoy’s sporting a particularly nice pair of breasts and he’s utterly horrified. When Parker notices he collapses with laughter, and if Tom didn’t have a reputation to maintain he’d fall to the floor with giggles too. The Hufflepuff’s are beaming. ‘He’s one of ours’ they say, as they haven’t quite worked out that Parker’s anything but.

Tom lays in bed and remembers Parker’s cheeky grin and gleaming eyes. He wants to sleep but he’s plagued by visions of Parker. It’s nearly halfway through the year and Tom hasn’t even begun to achieve what he’d planned. This was the year he was going to find the Chamber of Secrets and unleash his legacy. Instead he’s spent it obsessed with Parker. Tom can’t bring himself to care. Parker’s different, and he’s still an unsolved puzzle, one that Tom can’t leave alone.

* * *

 

Christmas dinner at Hogwarts is usually a cringe-worthy and forced affair, but this time Parker’s sitting next to him, and they’re betting sweets on which Professor is going to say the most outrageous thing.

“Merrythought,” Tom says with certainty. She’s a lush.

“Dumbledore,” Parker says, just as certain. They turn to watch the table.

“You remind me of my third husband,” Merrythought says to Slughorn, who blushes.

“Really? How many husbands have you had?” he jokes.

“Only two,” Merrythought says with a cackle and Tom cocks a brow at Parker, daring him to do better.

“What did you get for Christmas?” Johnson asks Dumbledore.

“I got these wonderful woollen socks that sing Christmas carols whenever I tap them with my wand,” Dumbledore says. “Would you like to see them?” There’s a hush as the entire table contemplates how emphatically they do NOT want to see Dumbledore’s socks, and whatever else that may entail.

“I’ll take your word for it, old chap,” Johnson says nervously.

“Your loss!”

Parker quirks a smile, already eying up the candy, however, whatever argument Tom might have given is rudely cut off by a cry.

“Troll in the dungeon! Troll in the dungeon... Though you ought to know,” Kettleburn cries, then collapses. Parker snorts his drink all down himself, and can’t stop laughing. Dumbledore eyes him curiously, but sets off to defend them all like a good Head of Gryffindor.

“Troll in the dungeon,” Parker chuckles. “I guess we both lose.” He snorts again. “Troll!” he cries, and Tom wonders if he’s been at the Professor’s punch.

When he asks Parker denies it, and then in a synchronised movement they both turn to look at the empty teachers table, several jugs of punch kindly abandoned from when they’d hurried away to deal with the troll.

Three hours later the jugs are empty and both Tom and Parker are just a little bit tipsy.

“Someone once tried to kill me with a troll!” Parker announces dramatically.

“Nonsense,” Tom says, poking Parker in the side. “What a load of effort just to kill someone.”

“It’s true,” Parker insists. “Killing curse didn’t work, so they tried a troll next.”

Parker, Tom decides, says the strangest things. They’re lying on their back, trying to spot the secret message written on the ceiling of the Slytherin common room.

“I suppose after that they tried a basilisk?” Parker rolls over so his nose his practically in Tom’s face.

“Tom. Tom. Tom! How did you know that?” Tom rolls onto his side so they’re gazing into each other’s eyes.

“You’re a strange one, Parker.”

Parker grimaces. “Call me Harry.”

“Harry.” Tom tests out the word. “Haaaaarry.”

“Tommmmm,” Harry replies, then their mouths are pressed together and it feels like there’s electricity running through his veins, like he’s cast the most magnificent spell, like he’s found all the secrets to the universe. Harry pulls back and smiles. “Merry Christmas,” he whispers against Tom’s lips and Harry kisses him again, kisses him until his lips are sore and his heart is aching and they’re rudely interrupted by Slughorn enforcing curfew.

* * *

 

 Tom doesn’t see Harry again. All Harry left was a note.

_I’m sorry._

Dumbledore tells him Harry’s gone back to his own time. Tom doesn’t believe him until he has to. The Chamber of Secrets opens, and Tom makes a horcrux, because if Harry is in the future then Tom has to live until he’s in Harry’s present.

Then Voldemort makes another.

He searches the world for twenty years, but there is no sign of Harry.

He makes another.

He forgets why he made one in the first place. It doesn’t stop him from making more.

He’s looked down upon, and he wages war against the masses, spreading pain around to alleviate his own.

A prophecy?

He lifts his wand. “Avada Kedavara.”

PAIN. Pain like nothing before. (Apart from one moment, many years ago when he’s looking at a piece of parchment, two words written in Harry’s ugly scrawl.)

Tom doesn’t get why the joke was so funny until fifty years later when he’s a wraith possessing the back of Quirrell’s head and Quirrell runs into the Great Hall during the Halloween Feast screaming about a troll. But at that point Voldemort was too angry, too lost, too insane to care. He only cares for his pain.

He’s been resurrected, using the blood of his foe. This time the killing curse cannot fail.

“Avada Kedavara.” Potter’s hit by the flash of green light, and disappears. Why can’t the child just die?

Fifty six years previously Harry Potter arrives in 1939.

Fifty six years and a few seconds later Harry Parker arrives in 1995.

“Hello Tom,” the boy says. Voldemort narrows his eyes. The Hufflepuff boy. The one who’d left him. Parker. Potter, it seems. Harry. “Are you still in there?” Harry says, his eyes as bright as Tom remembers. Tom takes his outstretched hand.

Harry Parker was a puzzle. But finally, Tom thinks, he might be able to solve the riddle.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus: Conversations with the Sorting Hat
> 
> “Ah! I know exactly where to put you!”
> 
> “Not Slytherin,” Harry quickly interjects.
> 
> “Not Slytherin! Not Slytherin! You must be joking!”
> 
> “Gryffindor please. I was in there before, after all.”
> 
> “Hmmpf. What a load of nonsense. I must have been going senile in my old age, sorting you into Gryffindor. I never seen a slyer snake than you.”
> 
> “Gryffindor,” Harry repeats, crossing his fingers. He’s no idea what he’ll do if he has to face a young Tom Riddle.
> 
> “As if! Well, you’ve certainly got one outstanding attribute; loyalty. It’ll be HUFFLEPUFF.”
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!


End file.
